


Day 135

by Josh_the_Bard



Series: A Year in Kirkwall [135]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:08:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24207952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josh_the_Bard/pseuds/Josh_the_Bard
Series: A Year in Kirkwall [135]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589257
Kudos: 1





	Day 135

Marzio Balazar had lost count of the number of jobs he had undertaken on behalf of the Crows, Thedas was full of powerful, wealthy people who felt the most expedient path to more power and wealth was to eliminate the competition. There were also many wealthy people vexed by popular enemies they couldn’t afford to be tied to the death of. It was raire for Marzio to take a job against someone in power from those they held power over. The mage underground had paid very well for the death of Meredith Stannard, Knight Commander of Kirkwall and, as a bonus, helped Marzio collect on a bounty that would bring him a good deal of approval with his peers. Those who crossed Antiva crossed the crows by extension.

Death was, by now, routine for Marzio. A Knight Commander might seem like a difficult mark, surrounded as she was, by the entire templar order of Kirkwall, and with hundreds of mages on hand to provide healing in need be. But where others saw obstacles, Marzio saw opportunities. No one could memorize that many faces and so it was possible to hide in plain sight, as long as you knew what form to take. No one who knew Dante Balazer would ever consider posing as a templar for any length of time, and he would never pass as a mage, but there was a class of person in the circle who was ignored by almost everyone: the tranquill. 

In preparation for the job, Marzio had tattooed the sunburst mark on his forehead, donned the utilitarian robes and slack expression of the tranquill, and practiced the listless, disaffected cadence he had not used since his teenage years. He could have taken his time, spent weeks establishing himself in the circle before making his move, but Marzio was eager to get his ship full of goods back to Antiva.

His disguise worked far better than he could have hopped. One look at the mark on his forehead and almost everyone he passed averted their eyes. One or two sent him on errands which Marzio pretended to comply with until he was out of sight. Before long he was in the kitchen where several real tranquill were working at making meals for mages and templars alike. Stew seemed to be on the menu all around, but it was a simple thing to find the bowle set aside for Meredith. She was, as it seemed was her custom, taking her evening meal alone in her office. Marizo wandered just close enough to drop a lethal dose of The Quiet Night, in the bowl before it was taken away.

Marizo was tempted to take the opportunity to escape, but it seemed overly optimistic for him to leave without confirming that his target was well and truly dead. He gave it a good half-an-hour, more than enough time to finish a bowl of stew, before wandering over to check on the Knight Commander.

He had made it almost to the door when he was confronted by another real tranquill sprinting down the hallway. They both stopped short to avoid crashing into each other. The tranquill looked Marizo up and down thoughtfully.

“You are not of this circle,” she accused. Marizo thought about bluffing his way through but the blighted woman probably did have the entire circle’s faces memorized.

Marizo drew his dagger, intending to bring it across the tranquill’s throat before she could sound an alarm but the woman was a hair too fast. She got her hands up, taking the knife across the back of her forearm.

“Intruder!” she shrieked. Marizo had never heard a tranquill raise their voice like that. He had always wondered if they even could or if their expression was limited to their iconic barely-more-than-a-whisper. This was not the best time to be learning new things.

Marizo’s second cut did slit the woman’s throat open and her shrieking came to a gurgling halt. Blood splattered all over Marizo’s disguise. He knew he probably didn’t have much time so he let the woman lie where she fell and bolted for the Knight Commander’s office. Luck was not on his side this day and an older elf in elaborate mages robes and a staff carved to look like a three-headed serpent stepped out the room directly across the hall from Meredith’s.

The mage took one look at Marizo and cocked an eyebrow.

“Here for me?” he asked. 

Marizo shook his head, eyes darting to Meredith’s door. It was partially ajar but he couldn’t see anyone inside. The elf’s eyes followed Merizo’s and he nodded.

“Be quick about it,” said the elf before running towards the bleeding tranquill. Marizo thanked the maker for his first bit of luck that day and slipped inside the office. 

The sight before him was baffling. The stew bowl was empty and Meredith was hunched over, vomiting on the floor and leaning on a gigantic glowing red sword for support. There was no possible way she could have survived eating that much Quiet Night. Not even if she had shared with the tranquill who had looked perfectly healthy, before Marizo had slit her throat.

Well there would be time for speculation after the job was done. Meredith might have been on her feet but she was in no condition to defend herself. Marizo darted forwards preparing to drive his blade into the back of the woman’s neck, severing the vertebrae. It was a quick death, probably painless. As he closed the distance between them, their eyes met. The hairs on the back of Marizo’s neck stood on end and time seemed to slow down. Marizo had the horrifying realization that he had made a terrible mistake, but it was too late to reverse his course.

Meredith moved impossibly fast, especially considering the bulk of the armor she was wearing. One hand was still on the hold of her sword and the other caught Marizo’s right wrist. Marizo tried to jam the dagger in his left into the templar’s guts but it glanced harmlessly off her breastplate.

“Incredible,” Meredith whispered. She gave Marizo’s wrist a squeeze and he felt the bones shatter in her grip. “I can feel the power from the blade.”

Marizo stabbed furiously with his left hand but could not find a chink in Meredith’s armor. The woman released his ruined wrist and casually caught and crushed his left as well.

Without releasing her grip on the sword, she took Marizo by the neck and lifted him into the air.

“Who sent you, assassin?” she demanded. If he hadn’t been in such excruciating pain, Marizo might have laughed at the question. A crow never betrayed his employer, even in the face of death Marizo had that much honour at least. He said nothing. 

“Answer me,” she demanded. Marizo spat in her face, a petty act of defiant but the best he could muster. Meredith sneered and slammed Marizo into the ground. The impact left the crow gasping, the pain in his wrists all but forgotten. Marizo expected a killing blow to follow but instead, Meredith stomped on his ankle, shattering that as well.

She seemed satisfied that he was no longer a threat and fell back to lean against the wall, clutching her sword as though her life depended on it. Marizo could hear the sound of armoured men running outside. Marizo refused to be hauled off to a cell somewhere and forced his ruined hands to grasp his second dose of Quiet Night. Meredith noticed what he was doing but was too slow to stop Marizo from downing the bottle.

Marizo had killed dozens of targets with this poison and was pleased to discover that it was aptly named. It felt like nothing so much as falling asleep after a long day’s work.


End file.
